St. Patrick’s Day is truly an amateur day of drinking. This is the one holiday where drinking just maybe president over nudity. Nudity is always a nice bonus. This is just another busy drinking holiday where there is an influx of college students and sport’s March madness. Most dancers work on Patrick’s day to reap the befits of a bustling bar. There will be a lot of green decorations, beaded necklaces, “Kiss me I’m Irish” stickers, and possibly a leprechaun appearance.
As dancers, we can drink on the job, some would even say it’s part of the job. Depending on which day of the week St. Patrick’s Day land on, I know that I look less forward to working on this holiday. Get the buckets ready & I don’t mean for the money. Yes, those same champagne ice bucket used to chill champagne bottles and sometimes used to collect rain money is also served as a puke catcher for those patrons who can’t make it to the bathroom.
Day time would be the best time to work on this holiday because, by the time the night shift comes around, our jolly patrons would have turned into mumbling buffoons. If not careful so will some of the ladies.
You would think being allowed to drink at work is a good thing. “It would make work more enjoyable” some would say. I have worked in the strip club industry for 20 years, I would to half heartily disagree.
I remember not being able to drink when I first started dancing. Although dancers can drink on the job, the laws are still strictly enforced. I sustain from drinking until I turned 21. Except for the one time when I was 20 and sneakily took a sip from the champagne flute containing champagne, knowingly bypassing my mock champagne flute filled with ginger ale. I assumed nobody would be watching, I was very wrong. Everybody was watching and the cameras don’t lie. I remember getting reprimanded by the GM and quickly learned my lesson. It wasn’t long till I turn 21 and oh, how I wish I hadn’t rushed it.
I feel fortunate to be able to remember as much that I do. Drinking on the job has caused many fuzzy, blurry, & blackout kinds of nights, some nights I wish I had forgotten, and times when I felt like I won’t survive another day. I must mind you to make friend with the bartender. They can be your ally or your worst foe. During some moments of clarity, I realize what may really have caused an early evening where I’m sprawl on the bathroom floor not able to stand because the room was spinning so hard. I like my drinks strong, therefore I leave an open invitation for any sinister bartenders who may want to intentionally poison me. At other times, I have notice drinks being served lighter to keep me performing and selling at my optimal capacity.
Yes, you can dance and choose not to drink and those dancers do exist. You can locate them by the shimmer of the reflective fluorescence bouncing off the plastic water bottle they carry around with them. A can of Red-bull may also be a sign of a non-drinker however may be a speed junky.
I am a drinker. I need a drink, more often two to start my evening. Drinking indeed makes work more enjoyable, especially when I’m usually carrying a mild hangover from the night before and I am faced to be “on” & punctual to men’s taunts abruptly when the clock strike 6pm for shift change. Alcohol can quickly help me transition into “Aria.”
Since I turned 21, I have discovered a few “go-to” cocktails. I started as a light drinker, drinking flavored vodka with seltzer. That was my initial drink of choice, eventually, my pallet moving on to stronger cocktails, such as martinis or flavored vodka served on the rocks. It only took a few years for me to instinctively reach for the strongest drinks at the bar. By this time I knew I was in over my head. I could easily drink an entire bottle of Stoli Raspberry in an evening, straight up! I’d see men’s faces scour when ordering my drink. Retrospectively thinking, it was not my best impression.
During my youth, I don’t remember waking up with hangovers much. However, as I got older, nearing my 30’s, hangovers became more much prevalent. This may be due to my graduating cocktail to Tequila shots. Most recently, my signature drink has become “Patròn on the rock, splash of cranberry (just for a color) w/extra lime wedges.” I said it so much it automatically rolls off my tongue without a thought and has become “the usual” to the bartenders and I’ve unintentionally trained customers how to correctly order my drink; always less cranberry juice. It had a pretty pink color however a serious cocktail. I drank it so religiously that it would be obvious to all where I sat by the sight of where my cocktail laid.
St.Patrick Day 2020, the news of “the corona” has touched down in the United States. News of the virus started circulating after Valentine’s Day. I can sense a difference in the air. “Social distancing” is a new term yet to be fully comprehended, however, it was business, somewhat, as usual. A loyal customer of mine came in briefly on this day to say what I now know, was a final “farewell.” No hugs, no kisses, no handshake, no dances. This is when the seriousness struck me. He handed me my last & final payment. I noticed the money was crispy clean hundred dollar bills that looked and smelled as if it was just printed. He handed it to me with hopes in his eye of a “see you later”, with both of us knowing how unforeseeing the future has become. This was our last encounter.
Some girls may have sensed the change in the air as well and the news has become a catalyst in their efforts in making money. These girls can sense their final opportunities. Pushing the boundaries knowing there are larger worries surrounding them. It already seemed like the apocalypse has touched down in the strip club. The bad girls, naturally naughty, saw all the signs where they easily started breaking the club rules, allowing customers to snap pictures of them inside the club, private dances taken placed at the tables rousing all the men to become rowdier. As management tried to get a handle on the situation, I just watch as the club industry crumbles in front of me. It no longer looked like a sophisticated operation of a high-end establishment, but more an apocalyptic catastrophe. Girl fights in the dressing room, thievery, seedy behavior all around the club, where the club rules seem to be thrown out the window. I know some would think this happens on a daily in strip clubs, however, not to this magnitude.
At this time, constant hand-washing is in full effect with high demands of gel hand sanitizer and disinfectants, where stores are sold out of these products at record speed. I can recall my hands becoming dry, chafed & cracked more than ever stemming from the new guidelines of frequent 20 seconds hand-washings. Masks science at this point is spotty, and not yet widely worn or a requirement and a shortage concern over toilet paper.
It’s to no surprise that the club shut down abruptly a few days after this due to a nationwide lockdown.
I hopped on a plane the night of St. Patrick 2020, Mexico bound. Vacationing is vital for dancers. Vacation is my form of detox. I have been busy working since Thanksgiving, working late into the nights, drinking on the daily, hangovers on a daily, celebrating rigorously with no holidays or weekends missed. This vacation has been long-planned before all this & I was glad to escape what seemed to be destruction and devastation. I had pre-booked this vacation some time ago not knowing what’s to evolve. There were no restrictions on travel yet. Hearing that the club had close down while I was in Mexico, was not a big surprise. It seems all for the best. The last image I have of the club seemed as if it was filled with rabid & already zombified females where customers have long been waiting for this “lucky” day.
If the environment inside a small strip club started to show signs of an “end of days” clip, I can only imagine what will happen outside the strip club.
I thought I was safe, enjoying my detoxification in a distant and remote paradise island with work cancel until further notice…then Mexico closed its borders…